


in a single bound

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Beard of Sorrow, Daisy is Phil's favorite superhero, F/M, First Kiss, Kissing, Phil as Lois Lane, Phil as Mulder, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 06:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7088788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one in which Coulson is Lois Lane and Daisy is his Superman.  I was thinking about how Lois was always trying to get an exclusive with Superman. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	in a single bound

The buzzing sound is what wakes him first.

Then the screen comes to life and he reaches across and takes it in his hand.

He shifts, groans restlessly, and starts to come more awake, turning on his back and bringing the phone close to squint at the alert feed.

It’s 3 a.m. What could she be doing at this hour?

Actually, he can think of a lot of things she could be doing at this hour. And decides not to.

This is when the Fox News journalists should be turning in their articles for the next day. About how she’s a dangerous vigilante, and people like her need to all be rounded up. Accounted for.

He clicks on the link, a site he’s never been to before, and pulls it up.

Great.  He’s not sure which he’s rolling harder: his mental eyes or his _actual_ eyes.  Some pop culture site has published an article about her and it’s being treated as breaking news.

There’s not even any real information, just a picture of her from 3 months ago. 

And a pretty sexist headline commenting on what she’s _wearing_.

He sighs and closes the app, and then closes his eyes, starting to put it back on the nightstand to settle back in.

Then he changes his mind, switches it back on, looks at the picture. 

Details he’s seen before.  The careful makeup, the wig, an outfit open to interpretation, he supposes.

It’s her, but it’s not.  Okay, maybe it _is_ her now, and he should quit fooling himself.  He’s not sure.  They haven’t spoken since…

The curtain in the hotel room catches his eyes as it drifts, ghost-like, crossing a shaft of light on the floor.

He blinks, then again, unsure if he’s actually awake.

“Daisy?” he asks out loud, sounding even more foolish to himself, talking alone in his empty hotel room.

The curtain moves again and he watches it, longer than necessary, before he sits up and looks at where his gun is laid out on the small round table.

He still has enemies these days.  Rubbed a lot of people the wrong way since he went back into the field.  Some of them with powers.  Getting sloppy.

Pushing back the sheets, he finds the floor with his feet and walks towards the window, sliding against the wall, and then pulling back the curtains to peek.

The window is slightly open, a breeze coming through it.

And that’s all. 

 

#

This whole time, he’s been watching her, never thinking about himself being watched.

Being watched by the ATCU, _yes_ , but not by _her_.  He gave up on that months ago.

He gets his coffee at the cart near the hotel and takes a slow sip, looking around while pretending to not look around.

Mack’s told him about how the guys on their team talk about him getting paranoid. It’s true, in a way.  How he’s obsessed with proving she’s just a hero resorting to the only methods she’s allowed.

What do they want?  He’s the ex-Director of SHIELD.  They kept secrets from people. Do people give Fury this much shit for being paranoid?

 _Okay_.  And Fury’s hiding and he’s out here in plain sight.

They all broke a lot of laws, together. In SHIELD.  And for the right reasons.

Why is this so different?  She’s a criminal, and he’s working for the government again.  It’s wrong.  It’s actually pretty fucking infuriating, because Inhumans are slowly being gathered up and quietly swept under the rug.

He’s been paying attention to _all of it_.  And collecting information, biding his time.

 _He_ should write an op-ed article.  About how history is repeating itself, and the laws don’t protect the weak and vulnerable, when people in power don’t believe they have rights to begin with.  That _some_ people know they have to work outside the law to do the right thing.

Or, he could just write a piece about Talbot. His ridiculous mustache. His ladder-climbing skills.

About a President that will only agree behind closed doors so he can’t be held personally accountable.

He pulls up the collar on his jacket, then walks twice around the block, anyway.

Just to be sure.

 

#

What was that site called?  _Style Stalker_ , or whatever?

He watches one of the Watchdogs be lead away in handcuffs and makes sure to smirk at him.

Because there are at least three teenage girls dressed this way at the last scene of her appearance.

His “team”?  They’re cleaning up after her, again.

This time it was some of these Watchdog assholes trying to corner an Inhuman kid. Which will be covered up, of course.

Maybe he’s out of touch and this is just what being famous is about.  It’s not that he intentionally avoids that kind of stuff -okay it might be- he knows a lot about information _and_ technology, _and_ style, for the record.

But…if she wanted to hide in plain sight, this is not a bad strategy.

He just can’t see her using this as a distraction. The ATCU harassing a bunch of teenage girls that are not the _infamous_ Quake, is not good press.

In fact, the ATCU is getting a lot of bad press at the moment. It makes him smile a little to himself.

The Rising Tide podcasts she used to make were for an audience.  They weren’t just for her.

She knows what she’s doing.  

Daisy has always had a plan of some kind. He just can’t see the pattern.  She was always better at that. 

He’s trying.

He listened to those podcasts at one time.  _All of them_.

Oh God.  How he misses her _voice_.  In the most unprofessional sorts of ways.

He should’ve listened more than he did.

“Look at this,” Mack says, distracting him, handing over his phone. “It’s a Quake costume.”

He grabs it immediately and then pours over the image. “It’s just a Halloween costume.”

“Oh boy,” Mack says, rolling his eyes, grabbing back his phone.

Their eyes both meet and then they look up together, to see that smug Agent Thompson staring at them with his predator smile.

He _hates_ this guy.  He knows why he’s on this team, and he reminds him of _Ward_.

"You should design a superhero costume for her. _Director_ ,” Thompson grins wider.

"My former best field agent?” he replies, stepping closer to him, even though Thompson probably has 15 years and about fifty pounds on him. “Sure. I can put blinking lights on it so you'll stop bringing in Cosplayers."

"Oh geez," Mack starts, pocketing his phone.

"Your best trained criminal, you mean?” Thompson goes on, because he always does. “With her little online social justice army? Why are you even here? Oh, _right_...the _real_ Director thinks you're walking Quake bait."

“Did he say that?”

“No, he didn’t,” Mack answers, stepping between them. “And you know we haven’t seen her, Thompson. I’m sure you’ll let us know when you do. You’ll be the first to know, won’t you?”

“ _Sure_. Before you let her set off the San Andreas Fault.  Sure,” he adds with a condescending nod.

“Asshole,” Mack says, so he can hear it. “Unobjective asshole.” As Mack mumbles the last part, he meets his eyes, looking at him like he’s pathetic.  “Quit asking for trouble.  Do you want an office in the basement?”

“I want to get to her before they do,” he shrugs.  “Simple as that.”

“Okay, Lois Lane,” he says, and elbows him, checking his phone again. “Lois would have already have shaved that sad stubble off.”

“Don’t start.”

 

#

He never told Mack that he thought, _dreamed_ , she came into his room that night.  Or many nights after.

She was already in his dreams enough.

They’ve followed another lead, this time to Philly.  He’s tossing things onto the hotel bed, exhausted, too tired to even turn on the lights, and then looks up at the window.

  _Quake bait_.  Huh. He doesn’t want to be a liability to her right now.

And yet, he can’t just let go of their connection. Whatever this is/was between them, even if he’s only imagined it.

He stares at the window for a long time, doubting himself, then he pushes it open.

His beard has been itching him for a while, and he rubs a hand over it, thinking about what Mack had said to him before.

A shower and shaving doesn’t seem like such a bad idea after the day he’s had.  Even if it’s just for himself.

“Hi.”

He halts his walk to the bathroom, instantly recognizing her voice, and then turns to search her out through the darkness, and finds her standing near the window, where he can see her in the light.

“I can buy that outfit online for $49.99 plus shipping.”

“Nice,” she says, tension in her voice, but also something approving in it. She takes the beanie off her head, holding it in her hands. “I see your sense of humor is still firmly intact.”

“People might beg to differ,” he replies, feeling suddenly naked.  He’s not, thankfully, but she’s always made him feel this way.

“Mmm. _People_?”

“Mostly a certain branch of the government.”

“Things were easier when we were in the dark before,” she goes on, taking a few steps closer.

She has no idea, really. “Yes,” he answers softly.  “They were.  Have you….” He is triple guessing himself at this point. “Have you been watching me?”

“Definitely,” she replies, and he thinks she sounds so bold in admitting that.  “You’ve been watching me.”

“Strategic reasons, of course,” he tells her. “That makes sense.”

“And…that I miss you.”

He swallows, frozen in place, and he’s so afraid if he does anything she’ll disappear again.

Then she sets her hat across the top of the chair near the small table.  Like she might stay.

“Not an ICER,” she mentions, looking at his gun as she sits in the chair.

“We only use ICERS to take down Inhumans.  They want to keep them alive.”

“Yeah, we’re weapons,” she finishes, pushing her guilt aside, and then loosens her wig and slides it off.  Her hair is cropped close to her scalp.  It makes sense.

It doesn’t shock him at all, it’s just that she’s so committed and he can’t even manage to shave regularly.

“You’re not weapons,” he answers, sitting down across from her.

“I know y _ou_ don’t think that,” she replies wearily. “You would’ve caught me already if you believed it.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, and finds himself looking down, smiling. “You’re really overestimating my capabilities.”

“It’s in our blood.  We’re connected.”

“Okay, and here I thought I was the conspiracy theory person…”

She shoves her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “I just kept thinking that I’d always regret it if something happened out there, and then-“

“What?” He’s afraid to disturb the moment, leaning forward in his chair.  That she actually might open up to him.  That there’s an out there and in here between them.

She seems on the verge of making a choice, but then commits to it and leans across the table, her eyes flicking up to meet his, and then focusing on his mouth.

“Oh-“ he breathes out, surprised but also not at the same time, he’s realizing.

And then doesn’t say anything more when she pushes forward to kiss him.

She pulls back to gauge his reaction, standing, and raises an eyebrow at him while he just stares at her. 

“Was I wrong to do that?”

No. _No._ But the words won’t come out.

He gets to his feet and takes her face in his hands and kisses her himself, pulling her in close against him, as his hands skim over her body.

The tiny sigh of relief from her moves between their mouths, and then her arms are around his neck, and when her tongue slides between his lips, he almost forgets to breathe.

“I hope that was a convincing reply?” he pants, when she finally stops to catch their breaths.

“Yes,” she smiles, and he watches it get wider as she runs her finger along his chin. “The unshaven look’s kinda hot, AC.”

He feels his face get hot, and can’t remember the last time he actually let himself feel this way.  It’s just happening, crashing over the walls he’s built up.

He _does_ remember when he felt this.  The first day they met.

“Then stay,” he blurts out.

“I didn’t come here to turn myself in,” she says coyly.

“I know that.” He pauses and runs his hand along her arm. “Stay the night.”

“You-” It catches in her throat. Her eyes get huge.

So many things are on the tip of his tongue right now. That he was wrong about what she needed.  He wants to get this right.  He loves her.

“I can’t,” she answers, giving him a sad smile, taking his hand in hers. “I want to, though.”

“I understand.”

He lifts her hand, and she grins when he bends down and kisses it.

She puts the wig back in place, and then the hat, like it's some kind of ritual for her now.

Watching her go. Leap out of his window in a single bound.

He leans out of it and looks for her.

He still forgets to shower, or shave.

It’s the best night of sleep he’s had in years.


End file.
